Katsushika Hokusai |
the air is low tonight pressed down to the ground
and it welcomes me like I am a victorious soldier
just home from some distant war
the ground kisses the low air and caresses it
whispering sweet love words that I cannot make out
even though I listen closely
there is moonlight starlight street lights
headlights from passing traffic
and a blue light from television sets
filtering through the windows of the houses
even with this light I cannot make out the tops of the trees
or the roofs of the taller houses
walking in this world brings me loneliness
a melancholy that lingers long after the night is over
a new day begins so what can I do
but begin again as well
so I do
james lee jobe
All of life is a foreign country.
Jack Kerouac
Deep winter, the thick of it, with no sign yet of spring. The dark at its longest, the cold at its widest. That's for me. The shivers on my back as I mount the steps of the bus, my breath is a fog, mixing with the breath fog of all the others who are lined up, waiting to board. Everyone breathing the winter air together.
james lee jobe
Kindness is in our power, even when fondness is not.
Samuel Johnson
jlj |
Paramahansa Yogananda
two valley oaks
together we drink
our roots move through the dark earth
toward a dampness a creek
or an underground pool
so much drinking now we are drunk
two old trees hoping for some music
james lee jobe
Dōgen
Here. It's a good place to be. I no longer dream of new places to go, and I no longer miss the places of my youth. To be where I am is enough. This patch of earth. Here. This place. Home.
james lee jobe
jlj |
Thanks for reading today's post here at the poetry zendo. You might consider supporting this blog with a small donation through the Buy Me A Coffee link just below. My mobility issues no longer allow me to work. Many thanks, jlj.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please be polite.